


Five Ancient Slang Terms That Are Still in Henry’s Vocabulary (And One That Isn’t)

by Morningstarofnight



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Humor, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 14:29:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16766959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morningstarofnight/pseuds/Morningstarofnight
Summary: Fill for darklyndsea-forever‘s prompt on tumblr.I looked up random 18th and 19th-century slang for this. Originally published on tumblr in 2016.





	Five Ancient Slang Terms That Are Still in Henry’s Vocabulary (And One That Isn’t)

The prompt comes from [darklyndsea-forever](http://darklyndsea-forever.tumblr.com/post/152054566841/5-ancient-slangs-that-are-still-in-henrys) on tumblr.

* * *

**I.**

It snows, and Jo wonders not for the first time how quickly the year passed. She is sitting at the table on the veranda, across from Abe with Henry heading the table this time. The hot food and cider warms her up in the late autumn chill. She can’t help but shiver every time she glances Henry’s way, even now, even after everything the year has brought. Some days it seems as if the whole incident was a dream, but then she’ll go into work and hear Henry comment on history, or be stumped by a pop culture reference, or go on a tangent about the evils of microwaves, and she remembers. There’s a part of Henry that doesn’t belong here. Maybe the whole part, a man falling endlessly further out of his time. Maybe only some of him, still unsure and clinging to what was once familiar.

That part slips out in words or behavior. Or clothing, for that matter. Jo suspects Henry’s fancy personal style is as close to his former wear as he can get.

He’s telling her about Abe’s childhood, stories she doesn’t think she could ever be tired of hearing.

“Hey! I was a model child!” the gray-haired man protests at the beginnings of a particularly incriminating tale.

Henry throws a stern, but amused, look his way, then turns to give an aside to Jo. “I recall him pulling more than a few Abraham-shams on days when he didn’t want to go to school.”

“I’m sorry…a few _whats?_ ”

“Abraham-sham. What you call a feigned illness?” Henry makes an encouraging hand motion, as if Jo will recognize the definition.

She slowly shakes her head.

“Pops, that’s not a thing anymore.”

“It isn’t?”

“Nope.” Abe rolls his eyes. “Who even knows where it got that name, probably nowhere good. People tend to say ‘playing hooky’ now.”

“Playing _what?_ ”

Henry’s appalled tone sets off Jo’s laughter.

**II.**

“Jo! Jo, he’s getting away!” Henry shouts. The immortal is jumping up and down anxiously, his head popping into the air to see over the busy traffic and across the street into the crowd beyond.

Jo, meanwhile, has her hands full with the other suspect. He’s putting up a fight, struggling so much she can’t get his wrists together long enough to cuff them. “Yeah, working on it, Henry. Don’t you _dare_ think of trying to cross that street in the middle of rush hour.”

Henry flits back and forth on the sidewalk for a bit, then whirls around, face stormy. “Oh…oh, blood and ‘ounds!” he says, punctuating the exclamation with a glare at the remaining suspect.

Jo’s mouth drops open at the same time as the one of the man she’s trying to restrain, but she recovers quickly and takes advantage of the flummoxed look on the suspect’s face to cuff him firmly and hold him down while she calls the station and lets them know about the one who ran off.

“Henry…?” she glances up at her partner.

He looks mortified. “I do beg your pardon; I should not have resorted to such language.”

**III.**

“…Do I even want to know how this happened to you?” Jo is extremely thankful that she and Hanson are the only ones close enough to see inside the item washed up on the shore of the river. The other people at the crime scene are distracted by the actual dead body, which appeared to have given a sudden final gasp for air before becoming truly dead.

“No.” Henry’s voice is firm and grumpy. “Suffice to say that _someone_ thought it would be a cruel and fitting joke.”

“Doc, please, put on some pants. I have clothes right here,” Hanson pleads. He and Jo have both taken to carrying an extra sweatshirt and sweatpants in their trunks, thanks to the unfortunately common demises of their immortal friend.

Henry snatches them quickly, gets dressed, and jumps out onto dry land, not caring that he’s soaking through the clothing.

Jo shudders. It’s been below freezing for the past couple days. “I can’t think of anything worse than the coldness of that water, Henry,” she says.

“I can.” Henry gestures moodily at the water-filled coffin he washed up in. “Being stuck in an eternity box for all eternity.”

“From what you’ve said, I don’t think your uh, condition, works that way. If you’d had time to drown you would’ve escaped. Also: eternity box?”

“That thing! Coffin! Casket! Earth bath! Or water bath, as the case may be.” Henry flails an arm at the item in question. “And I’d rather not risk the whims of symbolism, if it’s all the same to you,” he adds drily.

**IV.**

“And _I’m_ saying he sounds like a, a, _pettyfogger_ to me,” Henry says with a hint of triumph, smacking his hand down on his desk.

His moment is ruined by Jo’s uncomprehending expression. “Henry, you did it again.”

“Did what again?”

“Used a word no one understands anymore.”

“Ooh! I got this!” Lucas takes out his phone and excitedly taps a few keys. “Pettyfogger – a dodgy lawyer. Huh. Where’d you learn that one, Henry?”

Henry suddenly looks abashed. “I…may have snuck a copy of _The Vulgar Tongue_ from one of the stable hands, who got it from his friend, who—never mind. It was a long time ago.”

**V.**

Jo listens to what Henry says, because he’s suddenly off on a tangent about every memory that passed through his head on certain cases of theirs. His voice goes quiet when he talks about what he was thinking during the case with the worthless diamonds.

“He asked me if I was a gentleman. I didn’t know what to say at first—at this point I was just a tatterdemallion, no one to care about or posture to—that is,” Henry cuts himself off when he sees Jo’s face struggle to restrain an inappropriately timed giggle, “I was just a man in tattered clothing.”

“Henry, we’re going to have to work on your vocabulary.”

“I am _not_ using those absurd new terminologies.”

**VI.**

Lucas still has the rat he performed obstructive bowel surgery on.

“What?” Henry says, looking up from the body. His voice is perhaps a bit louder than he means it to be.

“Look, the little guy is still having digestive tract issues, so if I could just borrow a tool or two—”

“Absolutely not! Take to the veterinary clinic if you absolutely must!”

Lucas seizes the opportunity to use one of the new phrases he’s learned, and answers, “Okay, okay! Don’t take the owl with me!”

Henry’s blank expression is not what Lucas expects. “To become…angry? No? Am I saying it wrong?”

“Lucas…”

“Oh, come on! I spent _ages_ googling nineteenth century slang just to find the one you _don’t_ _know?!”_


End file.
